Sự Hạ Cánh Novels & Stories

The soft thud of the landing gear locking into place was a punctuation mark in the tense silence of the cabin. Geneva's Cointrin Airport sprawled below, an intricate web of lights in the deep Alpine twilight. The G6 descended with a smooth, practiced ease that belied the turmoil within.

“Yes, we are.” The plane descends, but my spirits soar.

Diane Landing is a controlled fall ending in a jolt, a groan of brakes, then the slow roll of the plane on the taxiway. The implacable blue of the sky has been replaced by a uniform gray, typical of northern skies. Through the porthole, I see hangars, other private jets, and in the distance, the silhouette of a ultra-modern terminal. We're not at a commercial airport. It's a private airfield, one of those places where money buys invisibility.

A plane has just landed in the landing and take-off area of Lacrimal city airport, the door opens and the electronic staircase descends to the ground, and little by little, the passengers descend into the beautiful dawn still with some remnants of dawn.Among the passengers, only one person interests us. She is.

The system didn't respond. The aircraft continued its descent toward the runway, three hundred feet per minute, gear neither up nor down, the ground getting closer. Unresponsive.

“That’s okay. It’s my problem. Let’s prepare for descending.” She announced after a deep breath and everyone nodded in silence. “Serene 7897, approach control report. The previous plane is going around due to bad weather. Confirm approaching and landing in Serene.” The ground station says through the ACARS. “We’ll continue approaching, Serene 7897” The observer responds and the ground station gets back. “Roger, Serene 7897. Descend to 6000 meters.” “Descend 6000 meters, Serene 7897.”

“Thanks.” The plane cut through level after level of clouds until at last I was able to see the flash of gray water under the wings. Almost immediately the water was replaced by concrete rising to meet the aircraft as the pilot drooped us precisely onto the middle of the runway. The engines dropped neatly into reverse, or whatever it is they do to slow the plane down when it’s skimming along the landing strip.

I don't know how I will get to the stairs, I just have to follow my instincts. I closed the cabin door slowly and moved forward tiptoeing trying to find the stairs. The elevator's light is on, I can see through the crack from the elevator door, and thank God the stairs are beside the elevator. I dashed to the elevator like a prisoner getting his freedom. In my haste to get to the stairs, I bumped into something, and it made a loud sound fallen on the ground.

When the hatch finally creaked open, cool air blasted upward, the first breath of freedom. “Go!” Devan ordered, his voice hoarse. One by one, we dropped through. Freda landed first, her boots thudding against the tunnel’s grated floor. Isabella followed, landing awkwardly, wincing but upright. Marcus descended slowly, Clarissa steadying him as if her shaking hands alone could keep him alive. I went next, lowering myself with one arm, dropping the final few feet. I turned back automatically. Clarissa was still up there. “Clarissa!” I shouted.

Roy gingerly exited the car, bidding goodbye to Bonnie. Evening was ascending down rapidly—sky bathed in fiery shades of orange, yellow and melting blue. A flock of white birds flew past Roy's head. Shaking off the drowsiness catching him, Roy went up the stairs to the fourth floor, keyed the door open with weighing shoulders. "Vhloo!!" Roy was greeted by a half naked—unruly Ken, whose words just now got jumbled up due to toothpaste foam in his mouth.